black&white – Page 6 – Carlo Centeno

The home that becomes a house

As is often said, the only constant in life is “change.” From the simple, to the complex, there’s an undeniable commonality about anything that changes: something is altered, modified, created or destroyed.

Such is the case when the Homestead recently sold. No longer a home, it is now a house, an empty canvas ready for what every new homeowner does to a key living space: change it to make it their own. In effect our ancestral abode has shed the attributes that made it our home. Think of a brand losing or morphing its attributes into qualities altogether different. Such qualities are not entirely alien, but changed enough to see and feel a difference from what was once a space all too familiar.

It’s been decades since I lived at the Homestead full-time. At present, I choose to recall good memories as the not-so-good memories dissolve into the negative space created by vacated furniture and other items. As noted in a lyric from a Carol King song, “…yesterday’s gone, but today remembers…”

Winter Colors [sort of…..]

“Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen….” and so goes the opening chorus of a popular spiritual song, which, in light of this year’s winter snow, feels appropo. I can’t remember a time when so much cold and snow visited our fair states. Substitute “winter” for “trouble” in the opening line and you can get a good sense of what burdens the lot of us. The quantity of snow has wreaked havoc on just about everything, and I mean everything.

But, all is not lost. This past weekend, scores of winter-weary New Englanders flocked to Smith College to soak in the colors, aromas and textures of the annual flower show. To wit:

This year’s theme, “Monet’s Garden,” contains relevance. The artist had a fondness for working the earth as well as the paint brush. Monet had indicated that aside from painting and gardening, “he wasn’t good at anything.”

It seems that both gardening and painting were a very good fit for him.

15 Smith College Flower Show-1004799 — Details from a Monet watercolor served as back drops along the display

A Timeless Reunion

I had a reunion recently. In the real sense of the word, I did see my high-school classmates and enjoyed listening to the way their lives took shape after graduation. Aside from [some] grey hairs, balding heads, [slightly] heavier waistlines, kids in and out of college, the many memories that circled back to greet us were good ones.

In another way, I had my own personal reunion with one of my binders of negatives. I found images from my days at L-C in Connecticut and decided to revisit them, though this time in a digital sort of way: scanning and rendering in post production. One thing’s certain, it’s much easier to scan and develop versus pour, measure, pour again, agitate, rinse, pour, fix, rinse, etc. etc.

The farm fields a la the soccer/lacrosse fields were still there. That pond is gone. I could’ve done a “before ‘n after” photo line-up, but decided, no, the before image has more meaning and substance. The “after” image—like others of its kind—looks too clean, even sterile.

What’s missing in this photography reunion is the ambiance, the nuance, the visceral energy of darkroom work. Your senses are so much closer to the image during development. You feel the smoothness of the paper when wet, made even more so with the addition of a wetting agent to promote spotless drying. The piercing smell of rapid-fixer reminded me to make sure the exhaust fan was on. The glow of the soft, red, safety light confirmed my presence in this other world, a place that made me feel safe, included and perhaps artistically complete.

This is a matter of opinion, but those negatives some 30-plus years old have held up rather well. Aside from dust marks, some scratches here and there, the emulsion has endured, and continues to do so. This is one of the things that I miss/love about analog photography. I can open a box, a binder, some glassine sleeves loaded with film and hold anyone up to a light source and immediately understand that there’s an image in front of me. I may not wholly comprehend what I’m looking at in a cognitive sense, but emotionally, there’s just something magical about looking at something that doesn’t need anything more than light, careful handling and a curious eye.

Chasing the Light v2

From another vantage point—in this case 25 floors up—light takes on a whole new feeling. Chasing the light from a high-rise slows me down because of all the details in front of me: the buildings, the shadows, the roads, the tracks, the river, the moving cars, etc. etc. etc. You can’t help but take your time scanning the vista in front of you. I took these in the late afternoon during a break from my desk and drudgery. They say getting light—outdoor light that is—is good for you.

I agree.

Training to be happy, or, Does your bank account size matter?

In the November 10th issue of the Wall Street Journal was an article, Can Money Buy Happiness? I’m referencing the print edition though as most would know, you can find the article online [I’ve linked it in the first sentence]. The article doesn’t offer any real surprises; I found no epiphanies in the story. I did however, analyze my own sense of personal happiness. Perhaps because of my age, I’m seeing a closer link to happiness through the relationships I have as opposed to wanting for things I don’t have.

So, what then, can I proffer in the guise of enlightenment? Here’s my short list:

What you have in your bank account is important, but the greater question is, what do you intend to do with it? I won’t disagree that having a lot of expendable money can be very nice, but money, like things, has an emphemeral quality.
Personal happiness must start with yourself. Self-evident, but I think we underestimate our own value, or own physical and emotional net-worth. In our age of “Reality TV,” celebrity adulation and toxic levels of narcissism , comparisons are inevitable. Other folks appear to be happier than me. Remember that apperances can be deceiving.
Training yourself to be happy [for me] starts and ends with a blessing. I think of so many who really cannot count on what I have: my health, my mobility, the use of all my senses, a roof over my head, 3 meals a day [often more], my friends, my family, a good sense of the person that I am or have come to be.
The accumulation of possessions will inevitably either go static or possess its owners, even both. If you pursue material things, by the time you get to your nth handbag, pair of shoes, latest digital device, fancy watch, or what have you, all the other prior possessions of similar ilk will spend more time dormant, even forgotten, in boxes within a drawer among other things also delegated to second [or third, fourth], place.

Whenever I get caught up in comparisons, or wanting to get something to increase my happiness, I think of this guy. We all should be more childlike; all too often, we’re just plain childish. Life should be, can be, much simplier and thus happier.